


a soldier holds his crucifix

by i_am_therefore_i_fight



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, Hurt Steve, Hurt!Steve, Minor Violence, Surgery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-24
Updated: 2016-08-24
Packaged: 2018-08-10 17:41:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7854763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_am_therefore_i_fight/pseuds/i_am_therefore_i_fight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Do you know, that’s the second time I've had to perform emergency surgery? I might as well just go get my medical degree, then at least I'd get to attach a title to my name." The lightness in his voice is a facade, Steve knows - a disguise for the very real fear and agitation he can sense in his friend. "At least this time it wasn't in a cave. Or on myself."</p>
            </blockquote>





	a soldier holds his crucifix

* * *

 

But if I couldn't keep you alive, I thought I could at least keep you together.

~Mitch Albom, "Five People You Meet in Heaven"

 

* * *

 

He barely makes it to the elevator. The doors close and it starts moving before he even presses any buttons, which is good, because at the moment he doesn’t think he could figure out which one to press (and even if he could, he’s not actually sure that he could make his eyes and fingers obey him long enough to find it). Friday’s voice fills the compartment, telling him that he should try to stay awake, that Mr. Stark is prepared to receive him on the upper levels.

 

When the elevator stops and the doors open, he staggers out and straight into Tony’s arms.

 

“Easy, Ginger.” Tony says something else, something about dance moves, but Steve’s ears are ringing, and he’s trying to focus the foggy tatters of his brainpower on his wobbling feet and on not dropping his entire bodyweight across Tony’s shoulders, around which the older man has pulled his arm to steady him.

 

It’s a slow and laborious trip down the hall, and Steve nearly loses consciousness at least half a dozen times before Tony is lowering him onto a soft surface and he thinks, _finally_.

 

“Ah-ah. No sleeping.” Tony slaps his cheek lightly, then again. It’s irritating - Steve tries to ignore it, but then Tony’s voice takes on a sharper register, one that Steve recognizes as reigned-in panic. “I mean it, Cap. Hey. Hey!”

 

Dragging up an arm that feels like it weighs a thousand pounds, Steve catches the hand on his cheek.

 

“ ‘m awake.”

 

“Hey, there you are. How’s the head? Probably not good. Scans say moderate concussion, internal bleeding. You’re probably going into shock. Do you feel cold?”

 

Does he? Mostly he just feels like floating out of his skin, falling off into oblivion. Blackness eats at the edges of his already-blurry vision.

 

“Cap? Hey. Be awake. You hear me, soldier? Hey. Steve!”

 

The dark swallows him.

 

* * *

 

He awakens to pain everywhere in his body and Tony’s hand carding softly through his hair, a touch more gentle than what he knew the billionaire was capable of.

 

“Do you know, that’s the second time I’ve had to perform emergency surgery? I might as well just go get my medical degree, then at least I’d get to attach a title to my name.” The lightness in his voice is a facade, Steve knows - a disguise for the very real fear and agitation he can sense in his friend. “At least this time it wasn’t in a cave. Or on myself.”

 

Stark performed the surgery. That means he didn’t call a doctor. Forcing his gummy eyes open, Steve squints against the stabbing bright light and peers around the room as best he can without having to move his throbbing head; his brief glimpse before closing his eyes again confirms that he’s still in Stark Tower. Not a hospital, or a government complex. Or a prison.

 

Still, he has to ask.

 

Swallowing against the rawness of his throat, he whispers, “Does anyone know I’m here?”

 

Stark is silent for a moment, and Steve feels his stomach turn over. But then Tony heaves a small sigh and says, “No. And Agent Romanov’s on her way. I have faith that she’ll have you back in Wakanda before anyone realizes where you must’ve gone after your little showdown in Newark.”

 

He’s right. Half of the Department of State is probably already on its way over to see what Tony knows about Captain America’s whereabouts. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come.”

 

Tony gives a gusty little chuckle, and Steve hears the creak of a chair as the genius settles back into it. “Pretty sure I owed you this one, Cap.”

 

The bitterness in his voice sends prickles over Steve’s skin. Opening his eyes, he makes the mistake of turning his head on a grinding, creaking neck, suffering an intense bout of stabbing pain and nausea even as he notes that Tony’s face is unusually pale and wan, the bags under his eyes deeper than Steve’s ever seen.

 

“Hey, hey, take it easy.” Tony comes up out of his seat, hands slipping beneath Steve’s head and neck when the supersoldier groans and squeezes his eyes shut again. “No more moving. In fact, if you wanted to just conk out until Romanov gets here, that might be for the best.”

 

He _is_ tired, but God, how long might it be until he sees Tony again? It’s been almost a year since the last time they spoke, the bitter standoff over Bucky and then the hurried and regretful letter Steve left behind when he took the remainder of the Avengers team and fled to Wakanda.

 

“Tony,” he grits out, pain stabbing through his jaw, the base of his skull. “I’m sorry. For everything.”

 

“Hey, I’ve got an idea, how about we just go ahead and skip this part? We both know that the list of apologies _I_ need to make is a lot longer than yours, so I’d really rather we just didn’t get started at all. For my sake. Please.”

 

Steve swallows and lapses obediently into silence, but the quiet between them is thick, and Tony finally gives a frustrated sigh.

 

“We were both doing what we thought we had to. To keep the team together. It just turned out that you were right and I was wrong.”

 

“But I couldn’t keep us together, either,” Steve replies softly.

 

Tony pauses at that. Then he says, slower than usual, “I’m still here, Cap. I’m on your side. We’re still a team. We’re just… working different angles right now.”

 

“I just wish we could be working the _same_ angle.” His voice sounds petulant even to his own ears, and a flush of embarrassment creeps up his neck when Tony chuckles.

 

One of Tony’s hands moves, reaching up to push back through the younger man’s hair, and Steve’s oft-suppressed melancholy resurges with a vengeance.

 

“Come with me,” he whispers, and he knows he sounds desperate, but there are so few of them left. There are so few of them left and in a few hours he’ll be leaving Stark behind again, leaving one of their own to fend for himself. “Come with _us_. To Wakanda.”

 

“Don’t think I haven’t considered it.” Tony gives him a small, sad smile. “I’ll think about it and get back to you before Natasha gets here.”

 

Steve’s fading fast already. He can feel it. “No you won’t.”

 

“Well, I’ll think about it, anyway.”

 

* * *

 

Steve wakes up a couple of hours later, on a jet alone with Natasha and two Wakandans, a pilot and a medic.

 

“Nat?” he calls, and she’s at his side in a flash.

 

“Hey, soldier,” she says, her tone bordering dangerously close to affectionate. “How are you?”

 

“How have I slept this long?” he wants to know. He’s disappointed that he didn’t see Tony again before they left.

 

She shrugs. “You needed the rest. Your healing factor is taking care of most of your injuries, but it’s taking up a lot of energy.”

 

He nods, and sets his jaw before asking, “Did Stark say anything?”

 

“He said to tell you that he’ll be thinking about it.”

 

He thinks of his last glimpse of Tony’s face, the dark circles under his friend’s eyes.

 

“We’ve got to figure this out, Tasha,” he says softly. “We can’t leave him on his own forever. He’s one of us.”

 

“He made his own choices,” Natasha reminds him.

 

Steve scrubs at his face wearily.

 

“I want him to choose _us_ ,” he confesses.

 

“In some ways, he has.”

 

He’s quiet, and she reaches out to brush the hair from his forehead.

 

“We’ll see what happens,” she says. “We just have to wait and see.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted at i-am-therefore-i-fight.tumblr.com/post/144090194713.
> 
> The reference in the beginning is to Ginger Rogers, a famous American actress and, more importantly, dancer.


End file.
